


Blood of Winter

by Mytiny_Sybarite



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bloodplay, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytiny_Sybarite/pseuds/Mytiny_Sybarite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you remember the stories Old Nan used to tell…? One in particular. About the Winter Skins? Another tale to scare children, we said. And one of the many stories she told about the consequences of slaying guests to your halls… But do you remember the creatures created from the murdered guests that have eaten of your bread and salt? Creatures perversely bound by the laws that were broken; creatures that hunger only for blood, that thirst only for vengeance, that enter only under invitation and that die from no wound, no disease or famine, no pestilence or old age. Creatures made of ice and filled with fire; creatures called Vampires in High Valyrian. Do you remember, Theon?"</p><p>“It’s not just blood I hunger for,” Robb spoke hot breath against Theon’s throat, “although, I will have that from you; traitors blood is what I was made for and you’re the only one I kept alive. But right now, I’m hungry for something else you always promised and never gave. You always were a tease, Theon..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood of Winter

**Author's Note:**

> prompt on asoiaf kinkmeme: Vampire!Robb – “White-walkers and dragons are not the only things to be back in Westeros…”
> 
> SPOILERS! for SoS and DwD
> 
> I wrote this a while ago and without a beta, so I hope it isn't too bad!

Blood of Winter

 

Theon hung from the ceiling by the heavy iron manacles, listening to the sounds of death from outside his cell. He’d heard the guards shouting, voices full of panic, and then he’d heard them die. He had heard screams in the distance, the sounds of battle, but now everything was silent. He hoped to hell that whoever held the Dreadfort at the end of the battle – more accurately a slaughter, from what he’d heard – was more kindly disposed towards him than Ramsey Bolton had been. But he wasn’t holding his breath; there weren’t many people left who were kindly disposed towards him. Anyone who’d ever cared about him was either dead, betrayed or, in the case of his family, largely indifferent to him. His torturers had taunted him with his father’s disinterest in ransoming him and then with his father’s death. They laughed about how the Ironmen fought over his crown and left him to rot. They hadn’t told him that Robb Stark was dead, but he’d overheard the guards outside his cell. He supposed they hadn’t told him because they thought he’d be pleased…

He heard the footsteps echoing along the passage, getting louder and closer, heard the cell doors being smashed open along the passage at irregular intervals. That too was getting louder. Closer. He felt his bladder tighten, a tingling trepidation that made him shift his weight from side to side and tugged low in his belly. When they came to the cell next to his, urine leaked down his thigh. It hardly mattered, given the state he was already in.

The footsteps thudded to his door and stopped. Theon listened to the sound of the door breaking, splintering and being cast aside, iron hinges screaming. He opened his eyes and saw the dark shape silhouetted where there had been a door before. The man approaching him carried no torch, but Theon knew him. But it couldn’t be; Robb was dead. In the dark, his mind was playing tricks.

He stared and Robb stared back. It was him. But it wasn’t quite. He was darker and paler, splattered with gore, his mouth black-red with blood that dripped steadily from his chin in the silence. It reminded Theon of Grey Wind. Robb’s eyes were fixed on Theon, intense and hungry and wrong. Not Robb. Creature that looked like Robb. Theon knew he must have finally lost his mind to the torture.

“You’re dead,” he said to Robb, “You died. At the Twins.”

Robb nodded, “I died. Yet, I still came back for you. No word of thanks for your saviour…?”

Theon raised his eyebrows and stayed silent, expecting it all to go away if he waited long enough. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath… then he felt something tickle the back of his neck. He jumped, eyes snapping open and pulled away; he hadn’t heard Robb move behind him. Robb pulled Theon back against him and laughed in his ear. Theon shut his eyes tightly and waited for it all to fade away.

“You’re no fun like this,” Robb’s breath rasped against his throat, “Filthy, reeking and broken. I need to fix you… so I can break you properly.”

Theon shivered. He heard an organic, fleshy sound and something cold as winter pressed against his lips. Liquid hot as fire flowed into his mouth. He looked down at Robb’s arm pressed hard to his mouth. He tried to squirm away, but Robb held him firmly in place. As he swallowed the liquid down, the fire flowed, burning down his throat and into his veins and he felt alive in a way he hadn’t since he’d been brought here, probably since well before that. He felt lightheaded and strong and aroused and for the first time in months he didn’t hurt.

“Do you remember the stories Old Nan used to tell…?” Theon could feel the words spoken against his skin, “One in particular. About the Winter Skins? Another tale to scare children, we said. And one of the many stories she told about the consequences of slaying guests to your halls… But do you remember the creatures created from the murdered guests that have eaten of your bread and salt? Creatures perversely bound by the laws that were broken; creatures that hunger only for blood, that thirst only for vengeance, that enter only under invitation and that die from no wound, no disease or famine, no pestilence or old age. Creatures made of ice and filled with fire; creatures called Vampires in High Valyrian. Do you remember, Theon?"

Theon suddenly didn’t feel so alive. He felt cold dread. An older legend than the White Walkers and known beyond the borders of Westeros. Vampires were the wrath of the gods incarnate, or so the storytellers said.

“We’re going home now, Theon.”  
And then the world went dark.

\--

Theon blinked up at the ceiling, disorientated. He wasn’t in his cell and he didn’t feel any pain. He sat up. He was in a comfortable bed, covered with warm furs. He recognised the room. He’d slept here before. Winterfell. This was Ned Stark’s chamber. But Winterfell had burned... And his body had been scarred and flayed and broken…

Theon frowned in confusion. He couldn’t remember how things were supposed to be or how he’d gotten here from the Dreadfort. He looked to the window, but saw only the night sky beyond. He pushed back the furs; he was naked, but there were clean clothes laid out for him. He supposed that he should dress and go and find someone so he could find out what was happening. As he began to dress he couldn’t shake off the feeling that this was all so normal and familiar that it was strange.

As he was fastening his sword belt Robb entered the chamber. Seeing Robb made him remember the nightmare; Robb had rescued him, but it had been all wrong. But now he had woken up to a dream that he didn’t believe in. Winterfell restored, his body whole, Robb alive. Robb smiled at him, but when their eyes met Theon knew that both the nightmare and the dream were real. Winterfell, himself and Robb.

Theon had no idea which question to ask now, so he went for the easiest one, “I thought Winterfell was destroyed?”

“I had it rebuilt,” Robb said, “I am the king, you know.”

Amusement shined in Robb’s eyes. Theon didn’t like it. Amusement had always belonged to him; Robb was usually just dutiful or honest. This wry laughter at the expense of the world wasn’t like him.

“And you’re a Winter Skin?” Theon asked.

“Aptly named, aren’t they? The Winter Skins of Winterfell,” Robb said.

Robb caught Theon’s look, “Oh yes, there are more of us. How do you think we rebuilt so quickly?! The Frey’s created an army when they slaughtered us,” Robb smiled, dark and full of malice, “I am still a Stark, still King in the North… but I don’t want the same things I once did, Theon…The things I wanted when I was alive seem so… trivial now.”

Robb walked over to the window and stared out over the dark grounds of Winterfell, “I don’t care about Kings Landing or the Iron Throne. I’m done with them. What’s dead can never die.” Robb glanced back at Theon over his shoulder, “I can’t die. And nothing I do will bring back those who have. So we’re rebuilding. I’ve scoured the kingdom for the living who belong to me, and killed those who had earned death. I don’t care who they make their king, but they will never harm what is mine again.”

Robb turned back to Theon and stepped closer again, gaze fixed intensely on him. He wanted to back away, but he also felt a thrill run through him; the same thrill he’d felt standing on the bow of a ship in a raging storm with the waves crashing over him, knowing that no matter how hard he fought for control, the storm would have its way. Robb smiled. It wasn’t how Theon remembered it. Robb’s smile had been shy or indulgent or bright at winter sunshine, it had never been predatory. Wolfish. Perhaps it was the canines that made it so unnerving. Robb’s tongue darted out and rubbed over the point of one as Theon stared. And Theon felt that thrill lower, the way he did after the storm had passed and he made his way to the whorehouse to celebrate living. Robb stepped closer still, watching Theon from under lowered lashes.

“But I’m still hungry,” Robb whispered, “I’ll never be sated. The Frey’s are dead, as are the Lannisters and many others… But it wasn’t enough blood to stop the thunder in my ears. I can hear your heart pounding, you know. Are you scared of me, Theon?”

“No,” Theon tilted his chin in defiance.

“Good,” Robb grinned, “it’ll be no fun if it’s too easy.”

Robb circled around behind him. Theon took the opportunity to go for his dagger; Robb caught his hand before it even reached the hilt, “And yet it will be too easy…” Robb laughed pulling Theon back against him and chuckled against his neck. Robb’s right hand was ice against his skin, while his left deftly undid the sword belt. It clattered uselessly to the floor.

“It’s not just blood I hunger for,” Robb spoke hot breath against Theon’s throat, “although, I will have that from you; traitors blood is what I was made for and you’re the only one I kept alive. But right now, I’m hungry for something else you always promised and never gave. You always were a tease, Theon. Talking about whores and fucking and what you like to do. Always wanting to know what I like, how I fuck… always teasing.”

“I wasn’t-” Theon broke off into an involuntary gasp, that became a gentle moan as Robb began to trail open-mouthed kisses down his neck, letting his teeth scrape against the soft skin. Robb’s hands began unfastening laces and sliding fabric aside, then cold hands trailed down Theon’s chest.

“Do you still want to know, Theon?” Robb pulled Theon tight against him, ground his hips forward, “What I want? How I like to fuck?”

“Oh gods…” Theon moaned.

“You craved this,” Robb was grinding his hips forwards and Theon could feel his erection with each thrust, could feel his own body responding. Robb pinched his nipple viciously, “You wanted me to take you…”

Theon tried to say ‘no, he hadn’t’, tried to shake his head, but Robb’s hand snaked up and gripped his jaw, tilting his head to the side. He felt a slight sting and then a wave of dizziness rushed over him. He could feel Robb sucking at his neck, but it took him a moment to realise that Robb was drinking his blood. Those teeth must be sharper than any blade Theon had ever owned, to cut so easily and cause so little pain. Robb’s hand in the centre of his chest was pulling Theon back firmly against his body and the two of them were moving in time, breath for breath. Theon could almost feel his blood rushing through Robb and he wanted Robb to touch him, to suck him off, to fuck him like a whore. He wasn’t sure if these thoughts were his or Robb’s, but he was achingly hard. He honestly hadn’t thought of Robb this way before, not outside the privacy of his own chambers at least – and that barely counted – but now he didn’t know if anything else was ever going to satisfy him, but this. 

Robb pulled his mouth away from Theon’s throat, moaning. Theon felt dizzy sickness washing over him. The hand holding his jaw fell to his throat and caressed it, dancing over his fluttering pulse. Robb rested his forehead against Theon’s jaw, his breath coming in gasps against Theon’s saliva and blood-slicked skin. The fingers of Robb’s other hand were flexing rhythmically against Theon’s chest, doubtless leaving bruises across his flesh.

Robb hummed in satisfaction, “You taste sweeter than any of the others. I knew you would; your betrayal was the most bitter.”

Robb licked over the wounded skin gently and Theon felt his dizziness ease, his stomach settle.

“I’m sorry, Robb,” Theon whispered, “I didn’t-”

“Shut up,” Robb breathed against his ear, fingers flexing and nails biting into his flesh this time, leaving deep red comet tails behind.

“You better pray that apologies don’t ruin your flavour,” Robb said, lapping at his neck again.

“Beg me,” Robb whispered, “like your whores begged for your cock. Beg me to touch you.”

Theon could feel himself flush with humiliation as well as arousal, but he moaned, “Please, Robb,” flexing his hips, pressing himself back against Robb and feeling Robb take up the gentle rhythm.

“More,” Robb commanded.

“Please! Touch me! I want you… I need… Gods, I want you to bite me again… to suck me… to make me come.”

The hand at Theon’s throat moved away, slid into his breeches, into his smallclothes; Theon realised that Robb’s hands were no longer icy, but hot against his skin. Robb groaned against his throat, “I will. Over and over.”

Robb’s hand closed around Theon’s cock and Theon moaned wantonly enough to put those whores to shame. Robb pumped his fist slowly, matching the pace to the thrusts of his hips against Theon. He stroked a thumb over the head of Theon’s cock, rubbed at the slit.

“You are mine, Theon. Say it,” Robb whispered.

“I’m yours. I’ve always been yours. Please, Robb! Please fuck me,” Theon moaned.

Robb’s hand disappeared from his cock and for a heartbeat Theon thought he’d said the wrong thing. Then Robb gripped his shoulders and turned him with vicious strength to face him. Robb’s mouth pressed against Theon’s hungrily, drinking him in, so hot he couldn’t tell if it was actually freezing cold. Robb’s teeth worried Theon’s lower lip before sucking it into his mouth; when he released it, he let his breath flow out with it. They shared that breath for a moment before Robb pulled back and placed his palm in the centre of Theon’s chest. Robb smirked and pushed Theon backward, until he fell back onto the furs of the bed.

Robb undressed Theon like unwrapping a present, layer by layer, a little slower than Theon would have liked. Theon lay back enjoying Robb’s heavy-lidded gaze as it raked over his body, lingering on his hard cock laying flat against his belly. Theon spread his legs, bent his knees and watched Robb’s eyes shine with lust. He moved a hand to his mouth, and Robb’s eyes tracked the movement, watched Theon slide a finger into his own mouth. Robb’s hand went to the fastening of his breeches, making quick work and sliding his hand inside. Theon moved his slicked finger down between his legs to circle his entrance, eyes on Robb’s hand as it moved inside his breeches.

“I want to see,” Theon breathed, “want to watch you too.”

Robb’s cheeks actually flushed faintly for the first time as he undid his breeches and pulled his cock out for Theon to see. Theon smirked at seeing a hint of the bashful Robb he remembered, then he watched Robb’s fist move in sure firm strokes and wondered if this beautiful creature was what was inside that beautiful shy Robb all along.

“Take off your clothes,” Theon said, voice husky with desire.

Robb chuckled, “Only took you half an hour to start bossing me around! Even as a king and a Winter Skin I still can’t win!”

Theon smirked, “You’ll still feel like you’ve won though. Clothes off.”

Robb smiled and it was indulgent _and_ predatory; Theon liked it. Robb began to peel off his layers and Theon watched in a way he never had before. The muscles of Robb’s arms bunched as he lifted his shirt over his head, his chest exposed, creamy, pale and defined. Beautiful in a very different way from a woman, but no less stunning. Hard lines replaced soft curves.

Theon remembered he had been going to put on a show before he got thoroughly distracted. He resumed teasing his entrance, pressing his finger inside. He’d only been taken this way once before – he’d been with an exotic whore who promised he’d see stars or his money back. It had been a good deal, but accepting an offer was a far cry from asking a woman to do it, so he’d had to resort to his own fingers ever since. Until now. Theon imagined it was Robb pressing into him and groaned.

“Robb, I want you to do it,” Theon panted, “I want your fingers, your cock. Now. Please.”

“Have you ever thought about this? Me doing this to you?”

Theon frowned, shook his head and felt his face burn hotter at the lie.

“You have,” Robb grinned, “touched yourself and wished it was me. Say it, or I won’t do it.”

Theon ground his teeth, “Fine. Yes, I’ve thought of you spreading me open... fucking me raw. Now get on with it!”

"When you were with your whores," Robb climbed onto the bed, kneeling over Theon, "did you think of me then...?" Theon saw a mixture of bitter anger, lust and insecurity on Robb's face.

"I tried not to... but I couldn't stop. I could never be what I should... always a traitor..." Theon turned his face away, shut his eyes. Admitting to wanting the innocent heir to Winterfell was quite different to succumbing to this dark creature's possessive lust. Robb had had to change into this to want him; what was Theon's excuse?

"Good," Robb whispered, "Always my traitor."

Theon felt Robb's hot palm on his stomach, felt it slide up his chest all the way back up to circle his throat. Robb squeezed gently, feeling the pulse of blood thrum under his palm again and snarled, "Mine."

Theon's eyes snapped open, flew back to Robb, who looked wanton and possessive and beautiful. Theon couldn't remember why he'd been ashamed of wanting this... it seemed stupid not to.

Robb's hand continued up, and his fingers pressed into Theon’s mouth. He slid them in and out and groaned as he watched. Robb pulled out his fingers and leaned down, pressing his mouth against Theon’s hungrily, devouring him. As Robb leant into the kiss, their bodies came into full contact, flush against one another. Theon moaned as Robb ground his erection down against his own. Theon grabbed Robb’s saliva-slicked hand and guided it downwards. Robb took the hint and pressed a finger into Theon; Theon remembered the whore’s coaching to go against his instinct and push out to relax himself.

Robb sat back and Theon tried to pull him back down, but Robb muttered, “I want to see.”

Theon moaned and the first finger slid in easily, Robb worked it back and forth until he could slide in a second. He scissored and crooked and Theon moaned and cursed and eventually begged, “Just do it now! Please! Fuck me…”

Robb pushed Theon’s thighs wide and positioned himself, then pushed inside; Theon moaned and part of it was pain, because maybe he’d been a bit impatient. Robb stilled and waited, but his expression was hunger and lust, enjoying that hint of pain on Theon's face as much as he had the arousal. Theon breathed and held eye contact for an agonising moment and then relaxed. He nodded and Robb pushed all the way in; they both moaned, and the moment of ecstasy was held quivering between them. Robb began to thrust, gently at first, then harder as Theon started to moan with abandon. Theon angled his hips until Robb was slamming into him at the perfect angle to make him see those stars.

“Fuck, Theon, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this to you…” Robb moaned, his hands gripping tightly enough to leave another smattering or finger-shaped bruises across his skin, "I wanted it too, even then."

Robb had wanted this too. Even before, even when he was innocent and honourable. He hadn't needed to turn into a beast to want Theon, only to forget that he shouldn't. The arousal Theon felt as he basked in that knowledge was dizzying.

Robb leaned down, bared Theon’s throat and sank his teeth in again. Theon cried out; he’d never felt anything to match this, being so filled by Robb and feeling his own blood rushing through Robb in return. Heartbeat matching heartbeat and thrust matching thrust. Robb’s hand closed around Theon’s cock and that pushed him over the edge. He came in silky ropes over Robb’s hand and his own stomach, his muscles clenching around Robb and finishing him off in return. Robb moaned as he came, his mouth leaving the twin wounds on Theon’s neck to pulse hot, red blood messily over his lips and tongue.

Robb collapsed on top of Theon, licking gently at the wounds to seal them as he had the previous time. Theon felt sleepy and dizzy and satisfied, if not a little squashed beneath Robb’s weight. Theon gave him a shove and Robb rolled off and settled on his back next to Theon. They both panted for a moment, unable to bring themselves to move any more. Then Robb hauled Theon closer and wrapped an arm around him.

“I knew you’d be a cuddler! Even as a mythical monster, Robb Stark, you are such a-”

Robb clamped a hand firmly over Theon’s mouth, “Sleep now.”

Robb kissed Theon on the end of his nose and then on his forehead. His hand weaved possessively into Theon’s hair and stayed there when Robb shut his eyes and his breathing began to even out into sleep.

“I’m glad you’re still you, even if you are a monster,” Theon whispered, and pressed a kiss to Robb’s shoulder. Robb didn’t open his eyes, but the smile that curved his lips was the one as bright as winter sunshine.

 

The End... for now ;)


End file.
